A Marauder's Thoughts
by Cuban Sombrero Gal
Summary: James. Remus. Sirius. Peter. Lily. Five unique individuals, five very different minds. Five character sketches, all set in their 7th year. ::COMPLETE:: ::Winner of Two Reviewers Choice Awards::
1. James

**A Marauder's Thoughts**

**_James Potter_**

* * *

In the dead of the night, amidst the strident rumble of snores that echo throughout the room, a scrabbling can be heard. James Potter is leaning over the end of his bed, feet entangled in the crisp sheets and glasses askew, rummaging through his trunk. He lets out a small gasp of triumph as his fingers wrap around something silky and smooth, reveling in the feeling of the soft material as it runs through his fingertips. He climbs out of bed and yawns, the breeze that filters in through the open window hitting his bare chest and causing him to shiver.

Stepping over a rotten apple core and two pairs of dirty underwear– if there is one thing the occupants of this dorm are not known for, it's cleanliness – James pulls the invisibility cloak over himself, dissolving into the darkness like sugar into a cup of tea.

As his feet, clad in a moth eaten pair of grey socks to which James is far too attached, pad along the corridors, he marvels at how different the castle under the cover of darkness. He's travelled the hallways after curfew many a time before, sneaking around with his fellow Marauders, but he's never had the time to appreciate its true beauty before. Everything seems so calm, so peaceful, without the resonance of footsteps created by students stampeding from class to class, chatting excitedly among themselves. People would be surprised to know that James prefers wandering the corridors when they're empty, because he can just be himself, without having to live up to any of the classifications given to him by fellow students – 'ineffable sex god', 'prankster and troublemaker extraordinaire' and 'class stud' among them. Despite contrary belief, James Potter isn't perfect; sometimes he just wants to be just like everyone else, ordinary and plain. He wants to be able to show that he, like everyone else, is scared of what the future will bring without being mocked for it.

James creeps through the doors that open out onto the grounds, wincing slightly as the door creaks. He pulls the invisibility cloak off, leaving it curled in a small pile underneath his favourite beach tree, which he begins to scale, delighting in the coarse feeling of the leaves against his skin as he nestles into a nook high up, overlooking over the lake.

This tree doesn't only hold happy memories, for under this very tree he and Sirius once tortured a fellow classmate, Snivel-Severus. James remembers the feeling of elation and power that he felt while watching the poor boy struggle with a mouthful of bubbles, and he smiles. But then he remembers the feeling of shame that had washed over him like a wave as he sat in Professor McGonagall's office, chewing on a Ginger Newt. As he'd realised how helpless his victim had been, he'd felt a pang of remorse, an emotion new and unfamiliar to him. Now, when he looks back on the incident, he's almost tempted to say that Lily Evans was right about him that day, that he was an 'arrogant, bullying toerag.' Not that he'll ever admit of course, for he has too much pride.

James plucks a thread from his fraying pajama shorts, and twists it around his finger, pondering his love for his fellow Head Girl and Gryffindor. Everyone asks James what it is about Lily Evans that he fell for. Sure, they say, she's pretty, what with her long, curly red tresses and sparkling green eyes that look like jewels, but she's also quite sardonic, and she has a very sharp tongue about her. Sirius has much to say about Lily, loathsome and anal retentive being two of the nicer descriptions.

Lily's face appears in James' thoughts, so clearly that he can see every dimple as he continues to wind the thread around his finger, ignoring the fact that it is cutting off his circulation. It's not how sexy she is (although, he must admit, something about those curves drives him wild), it's the little things; the idiosyncrasies that make her unique, such as the way she clicks her tongue loudly when she's studying, or the way she always smothers her macaroni and cheese in pepper. It's the fact that she's an oxymoron – she always snaps at him for mocking the Divination professor, yet, at times when he's been observing (not stalking, just observing) her, he's heard her criticise the crazy old bat. Everything about her, while it isn't perfection, intrigues James. He feels a throbbing pain in his finger, and realises that the end of his finger is now an unattractive shade of purple. Waving his wand at it, he vanishes the string, before promptly sticking the finger in his mouth to suck away some of the pain and climbing out of the tree, ignoring the fact that the bark is scraping skin from his back, peeling it away in strips.

Hitting the ground with a thud, he pulls off his socks, longing to feel the soft grass. The blades wedge themselves between his toes, tickling him and causing him to laugh. As he walks, he thinks about how much he's changed, and about how, finally, Lily is starting to notice. He's been a lot more responsible this year – not hexing innocent first years for the fun of it, not disrupting students attempting to study, not letting off Dungbombs in the corridors just because he's 'bored and in need of entertainment.'

Lily has noticed the changes in him, he's sure. She smiles at him – and it's not the leer that means she's dreaming of castrating him with a blunt knife. That smile warms his heart, because he knows that she's finally accepting him. She even calls him James, not 'Potter,' or 'arrogant prat.'

James continues to wander along, the moonlight illuminating his path past the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It's nearly a full moon, he notes with relish, and he will be able to transform for one night only. He never thought he would find anything more relaxing than flying but he has – becoming a stag. All the worries and fears he feels about everything just seem to fade away as he sprouts fur and antlers, and he's able just to enjoy being liberated for a few hours. Of course, it's dangerous, running around with a werewolf, but, over the years, James, Sirius and Peter have convinced themselves otherwise, and now just think that it's an integral part of Marauder life.

_The Marauders_ … when James first started at Hogwarts, he doubted he would ever make such good friends, even though he came from a respectable family and knew many children with parents in the Ministry. It only took a burst bottle of shampoo, a rather frantic owl and a packet of Sugar Quills to change that.

Everyone thinks that the Marauders are perfect, that there are never any rifts between them. How deluded those people are, James thinks, the Marauders are just like any other seventh year guys, just a little more popular. James remembers the end of last year, how tense everyone was after the 'incident', as it was always referred to. The only reason the Marauders remained friends after that particular incident was because Moony, despite having every right to be mad, had patted Sirius on the back and said everything was fine. He knows he is lucky to have such great friends, and he knows that he can never describe how much they mean to him. Looking down at the watch he's stuffed in the pocket of his pyjama shorts, he notices that it is nearly sunrise and that he ought to be getting back to the castle.

James scurries past the Quidditch pitch, heading towards the castle and a few hours sleep before breakfast, when he hears that familiar voice, the one the Marauders all dread.

"What are you doing out of bed? If only the Headmaster would let me hang by your ankles in the dungeon."

James can only think of two words to describe his situation: "Oh shit."

* * *

**a/n (01/04/08): Welcome to A Marauder's Thoughts, in which I plan to create a character sketch for all four Marauders as well as Lily. This fic was recently nominated for an Hourglass Award, in the category of Best Gen Fic, so lots of hugs and kisses and everything else for whoever was awesomecakey enough to nominate me, and for everyone who leaves a review, whether it be gushing or filled with concrit. ;) This story has also won Two Reviewers' Choice Awards at the Reviews Lounge (which you should all check out, btw), for Best Canon Story and Best Drama/Tragedy/Angst story. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as my previous readers have, and please, do leave a review, it really would make my day.  
**

**_Cuba ...x_**


	2. Remus

**A Marauder's Thoughts**

**_Remus Lupin_**

* * *

Remus sits, fingering the iron shackles that bind him. He can feel the filth and grime that cover the floor seeping through the seat of his pants. Outside the window, through the cracked and dirty glass, he can see the pale pink sky slowly fading into the blackness, and he knows that soon, the vicious monster that is the wolf inside him will take control of his body.

Remus never indulges in self-pity if he can help it. Moping around depressed and sobbing immense portly tears into his pillow every night is never going to stop the wolf causing him agonising pain every full moon. Instead, Remus pities those who scorn him, or worse, pity him in return.

These people, they cannot see the real Remus, the one who is brilliant at ancient runes, but rather fruitless when it comes to potions, the one who has worn the same pair of tattered and frayed pyjamas every night for the past two years and has all too big a penchant for chocolate. All the people who never look past his lycanthropy see is a blood-thirsty beast who takes delight in maiming people and killing. Yet, rather ironically, Remus is one of the nicest, most thoughtful, and considerate people in his year. Remus ponders this as he picks at the clumps of dirt buried under his fingernails, reminiscent of a mud-fight held by the Marauders earlier that day in Herbology.

The other Marauders got detention for their little 'incident', as Professor Sprout so eloquently and accurately referred to it as. They are planning to skip it though, despite Remus' protests about how a model Head Boy shouldn't be skipping a detention. James had just laughed and said,"_ well Moony, if I was a model Head Boy, I wouldn't have detention."_

If Remus is truthful though, he wants them to come. They keep him sane, because they accept him for what he is. Sometimes he wishes he was a full time animal, because animals have no prejudices, they accept everyone, regardless of their species. He would love to be an eagle, flying free through the air. Not that he would ever admit this to anyone; it's the sort of statement that would cause James and Sirius to label him a 'poof.'

Remus knows that he isn't a poof, but still, he doesn't want to do anything that might damage the slight reputation he has. James and Sirius are popular, smart and funny, and Remus knows that the only reason he and Peter have any popularity is because the aura of their friends shine down on them. Not that Remus is complaining, because the less he's admired, the less chance there is of someone discovering his secret. Most of the time he says nothing, just stands at the back of the group and smiles sheepishly, wondering if anyone is ever going to recognise him, as the mastermind, and the brains behind the pranks, as the one who has managed to help his friends avoid expulsion more times than he can count, as the one who really is an integral part of the Marauders, and not just a follower.

Remus shivers slightly, the sun has now completely disappeared, and there is not long before the arrival of the moon. Distantly, he can hear voices, laughing and screaming and whispering excitedly. If it were any other night, Remus would be in the Great Hall with everyone else, perhaps laughing loudly at Sirius' antics, or cramming in a few last minute notes before a Prefect meeting.

Remus still, two years after he got the badge, is astounded that he is prefect. He's doomed to failure in the position, he knows. What good is a Prefect who is always too sick to attend meetings and help out with patrolling? James says it's obvious why he is a Prefect – he's the only one of the Marauders with even an ounce of common sense. Remus doesn't dispute this, he knows James is insane and Sirius is hot-headed and spontaneous and Peter is a follower who often struggles to think for himself, but he also thinks that he is not the best choice.

He's never going to admit this either, because he likes the feeling of power. He likes roaming the hallways with Lily at night, docking points from timid little third and fourth years caught in broom closets. He and Lily have developed quite a friendship over the past two years, in some ways he is closer to her than James is. James only sees the external Lily, such as the fact that her hair is such a vivid shade of red, or that her eyes are a brilliant green.

Throughout the conversations they've shared on lonely winter nights Remus has learnt a lot about the internal Lily, and discovered that she isn't quite as self-confident and assured as everyone thinks. He's learnt that James is, in her eyes, cute and perhaps even handsome, but way too much of an arrogant prat. Although, judging by the look in her eyes when they discuss James these days, she's slowly, but surely, falling for him.

They discuss other things besides James, such as futures and pasts and how the present is treating them. She tells Remus about her sister, Petunia, and about Severus Snape, and how she misses his friendship. He in turn tells her about his homework and his weekly visits to Hagrid. There is so much more he wishes he could mention, but he doesn't have the courage to bring it up.

Lily is really the only girl Remus can speak to without becoming tongue-tied and falling flat on his face. He's had crushes, even a date or two (although they were both disastrous, largely in thanks to the suggestions and rather creative input of his friends).

He tries not to get too attached to girls, simply because you don't want to hurt them. He knows it's cowardly and not at all brave, he knows that, really, he's making excuses but he can't help it. Werewolves and love do not mix.

This thought makes him realise what is about to happen, he can see the moon, shining through the window. And then he smiles, because he can see silhouettes, a stag, a dog, and a rat, and he knows that the night will be fine.

* * *

**a/n: Once again, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please, do leave a review. ;)**


	3. Sirius

**A Marauder's Thoughts**

**_Sirius Black_**

* * *

****In the background, the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall flickers through Sirius' thoughts. He nods mutely, attempting to give the impression that he is contemplating her lecture. He knows better, of course. Through their many visits to her office, Sirius and James have developed quite the respect for the dear old Minnie, and they realise exactly how shrewd she is.

Sirius thinks about the reason he is currently sitting there, nibbling on a Ginger Newt. It tastes sapid and slightly stale, but he doubts that this is the appropriate time to convince Minnie that she should invest in a new variety of biscuit. He is there because McGonagall caught him sneaking Firewhiskey into Gryffindor Tower to celebrate Peter's eighteenth birthday.

His fellow Marauder, in Sirius' opinion, deserves a great birthday. In a few short months, whether they like it or not, they are leaving Hogwarts, and then, fun might be in short supply. Remus, James and Peter are not aware of exactly how volatile a world it is out there, and, sometimes, he envies them for that. All they can think about is girls and pranks and NEWTS. Sirius, on the other hand, is left to ponder Voldemort and war and the very real possibly that someone he loves could die.

He looks down at his shoes: the lecture he is currently receiving is boring into his skull, although he is not actually listening to a word of it. They are worn, smothered in mud and barely legible scribbles, a testament to exactly how boring History of Magic is. Once, they were a great pair of shoes, expensive and shiny, the best money could buy. When you are a Black, no matter how hated you are, you get 'the best,' because anything else gives you the appearance, and the status of a 'Mudblood', and that's pretty much considered a sin.

Sirius claims to hate his family, but he doesn't. It's impossible to hate your own blood, because you will always be tainted by it. He knows he hates their beliefs though. His best friends consist of two blood traitors and a werewolf, and he knows that he would never do anything to betray them. He knows that they would never betray him, either, because they are friends, and friends trust each other.

Sirius knows though, that no matter how great they are, they will never know everything. After ten minutes at James' house the summer he ran away, Sirius realised that, despite being best friends, they he and James led totally different lives, and that James could never understand exactly how much it hurts to be disowned.

So Sirius throws himself into the world of pranks, and hexing Slytherins, figuring that the more hilarious and funny he comes across as, the less people will delve into his private life. Sometimes, just sometimes, he regrets hexing Slytherins, but he never stops, simply because he knows that then, someone could find out exactly what he is like inside. Every time Sirius pranks someone in an unprovoked attack, he lies to himself, saying that he deserves to, that life dealt him a shit hand and that he should be able to get revenge. He doesn't really believe it, but it helps him deal with the feelings that such malice brings, so he keeps doing it.

McGonagall's voice is cutting through his thoughts again, tedious and full of advice about taking one's life seriously. It makes him laugh, because right now, James would be making jokes about one of the many puns his name provides, Peter would be giggling and Remus would be caught between a reprimand and a smile. The Marauders are what's keeping him sane these days, the ones that are stopping him from blowing up completely.

It still amazes him that they are friends. He and James hit it off in minutes of being left alone in the same compartment. Remus liked them from the beginning; it just took him a while to open up. Peter decided to be friends with them the moment he noticed that they could make him popular. Sirius still has a few, rather harsh thoughts swirling around in his mind about that one. But he never voices them, because so far Peter has proved to be nothing but the most faithful of friends.

The main reason that Sirius likes Peter though, is because he was the only one to stick up for him after the 'Whomping Willow' incident of last year, something the Marauders have vowed never to discuss again. Everyone screws up from time to time, and Peter was the one that pointed that out to Remus and Sirius, he was the glue that stuck them back together again.

Sirius still feels insanely guilty about that, not least because of what he did to Snivellus. He feels guilty, because, on the day that they found out about Remus' 'furry little problem' as James so eloquently nicknamed it, he promised that he would never betray his friend. And then he did, and he became the biggest hypocrite, which was one thing he'd always sworn he wouldn't become.

Although, when he thinks back on that fateful day, he wonders, if maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Not because innocent people got hurt, both on the outside and internally, but because they all learnt something that day. James started to understand exactly what Lily was talking about when she said 'grow up or I'll castrate you.' Peter learnt that being a good friend is important. Remus learnt not to trust Sirius Black with secrets. And Sirius … well he learnt all of these things, and more. It was an entire personality change for him; no matter how much he denies he's grown up, he has.

A lot of things have changed about Sirius in the last year, actually, but you would have to be close to him to notice. He's more thoughtful, less rash, and definitely, he would think, a nicer person.

Minnie smiles at him.

"Have you learnt something today?" she asked, although there's a twinkle in her eyes that suggests she knows he wasn't listening. He nods, because he has learnt something from sitting there, even if he wasn't listening. He's learnt an awful lot more about himself.

* * *

**a/n: This chapter is for the eternally awesome Padfootatheart, who's hopelessly in love with the idea of Sirius, for all her support and help and for being a generally wonderful reviewer and friend. I highly recommend checking out her work, as well as our joint project, 'Black as he's Painted,' which can be found on both our profiles.  
**


	4. Peter

**A Marauder's Thoughts**

**_Peter Pettigrew_**

* * *

****The darkness seems to swallow Peter as he climbs out of bed and tiptoes across the room. He cannot sleep, and he just wants to walk, to plod along the corridors and let his worries stream out behind him. In reality though, he is afraid to be caught out of bed on his own, without the Marauders there to back him up, so he settles for curling up on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, and staring into the dying embers of the fire.

To Peter, the dwindling fire represents his happiness. It's his birthday in two days, and he should be full of joy and celebrating. But, really, his birthday represents nothing but more loss of youth and innocence. He is getting older, this is his last birthday at Hogwarts, and soon he will be expected to stand on his own without his friends. He knows that they all have big plans for life after Hogwarts, yet Peter has decided on nothing. They all want to marry, and to become Aurors so that they can help in the fight against You-Know-Who. He can't even decide what he wants to eat for dinner some days.

Peter knows that his birthday won't be all doom and gloom though, because his friends are already planning a major birthday party for him. Sirius has plans to sneak in Firewhiskey, and James is looking for a way to convince Lily to be his date.

He doesn't know why, but he thinks James is delusional. Perhaps it's the fact that he's a Marauder, and not just an outsider looking in, but he sees James' faults, and sees that, no matter how much he's tried to change, that he can be an arrogant jerk. Peter is always trying to convince himself of this, because he's jealous. Jealous because Lily gives James so much attention, while the girl Peter likes sees him as nothing more as one quarter of the Marauders.

He doesn't even know her name; just that she's a fifth year Hufflepuff. Once, when he dropped his bag on the way to Divination, she picked up his books and handed them to him with a bright smile, before scampering away. That day will be forever engrained in Peter's memory, accompanied by a love heart, as corny as that sounds. It's the sort of thing he will only ever admit to himself, for fear of being ridiculed. He's never worked up the courage to ask anyone her name, either, especially not his friends. James would laugh like crazy, and Sirius would make all sorts of crude jokes, complete with sexual innuendos, even though Peter, and everyone else, knows that he's never shagged anyone in his life. Remus would listen, but then he'd accidentally let the cat out of the bag, because that's what friends do, they share their hopes and dreams and secrets. So Peter tells no-one, and ignored the pitter-patter feeling he gets in his heart whenever she's around.

The fire is dead now, nothing but a pile of smouldering coals, so Peter stands up and stretches, a few inches of bare stomach showing from under a too-short pajama shirt. If he was one of the other Marauders, people would swoon at that. But, because he's Peter, people would probably cover their eyes and groan. He's never understood that because he's not hideous or disfigured, he's just normal. Normal, despite what everyone thinks. His best friends are a werewolf, a boy disowned from his family for doing the right thing, and a boy obsessed with being number one at everything. Yet he's the one who is shunned, ignored and ridiculed, and that frustrates people, because he knows he's worth something.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Peter wants to rebel, to do something extraordinary, something that will shock everyone. While he knows he's something more than what people think of him, he doubts he would have the courage to do anything major, especially if it involves hurting his friends. Nothing is worth destroying bonds like those the Marauders have formed. James, Remus and Sirius know who he is, and understand and respect his strengths and weaknesses.

He owes them so much for it, because without their support Peter would have faded away into the background long ago. Remus is smart, and James is good at Quidditch, and everything thinks Sirius' mysterious aura is sexy, and, beside them, Peter has nothing. It's not that he's dumb, he got six OWLS in his fifth year, and he knows how to fly quite well, yet it seems like he has nothing. But then they compliment him on a joke, or send him a letter, and Peter knows that all those hours of trailing after the three most popular people in school are worth it.

Glancing at his watch, Peter realises that it's almost four o'clock, and that he should get some sleep for the day's classes. It will be the same as every other day: meals, classes, maybe a prank, discussion of Lily, teasing Snape. Peter wishes that his friends wouldn't tease Snape, but he doesn't have Remus' guts to stand up and stop them. He's just as much of a misfit as Snape is, just slightly less Dark Arts orientated, and he knows how much laughter can hurt the soul. Every human being deserves to be happy, not to live in fear of unprovoked attack and torture. It's one of the basic rights of life, yet it's one that seems to have escaped his best friends.

But in the end, it all falls back to the fact that they are his friends, and without them, he feels vulnerable and insecure. And, with that thought, he scrambles out of his chair and treads up the stairs to bed.

* * *

**a/n: I have a very different view of Peter to a lot of people, and I'm happy with being unusual. Yes, he was a stupid twit that betrayed the most important people in his life, I don't deny that, but there's a reason - he was not born evil, and he certainly didn't make such a choice just to watch people die. I think it was just his way of standing out, and while that does not excuse what he did, it certainly explains it. That said, Padfootatheart (yes, I'm reccing her _again_), has a wonderfully written story called 'Peter the Great,' which explains my idea in slightly more detail, and I urge you all to check it out.**


	5. Lily

**A Marauder's Thoughts**

_**Lily Evans**_

* * *

The air reeks of nail polish and is filled with laughter as four girls lay, spread out in a circle, on the plush, red carpeted floor. Lily looks up from her essay, and sighs slightly, before picking up her quill and scribbling another sentence. She really wants to join in with her friends, but this essay is due in two weeks, and she has an awful lot of pressing matters and responsibility to attend to in that time. Lily loves being Head Girl, but sometimes, just sometimes, she wishes she could be normal, like Mary or Alice, not so tied down, and therefore weary. She's so busy between Head Duties, tutoring first years, homework and study, that she doesn't have time to breathe hardly, let alone be wild and free, or even do something as mundane, and as fun as paint her nails.

Something clicks inside Lily's head, and she clambers off her bed, scattering parchment and books everywhere. Excusing herself hurriedly, she slips out of the dormitory and pads down the stairs, realising too late that her hair is knotty, and that she's wearing those bright pink slippers that are too threadbare to be held together even by magic. No-one will comment anyway, except perhaps Sirius Black or Po-James, but she doesn't care what he thinks. While she may admit that he's growing up, becoming more civil, polite – he's even stopped hexing random first years, and somewhat disturbingly, asking her out. She thinks she'll honour him soon, but he deserves to squirm for a while, he spent six years being an arse and Lily doesn't think she should just jump into his arms. She's padding along the corridors, and the only sound is that of her resounding footsteps. She knows instinctively where she is going, and she sighs loudly, she hasn't been here for years, not since …

Lily sighs again, it's deeper, and it reverberates. She usually thinks of him only in her dreams, when she's in her own little world and no-one can interrupt her. Once, she loved him, but now, she feels nothing but pain at the bittersweet memories. She's hidden them under lock and key for so long. This was their tree, the one that Lily is under now. They would sit here, overlooking the lake, but out of sight of idiots, those close-minded people who couldn't comprehend the idea that Gryffindors and Slytherins did not automatically have to spar and fight, that two vastly different people could be such great friends. People like James, (Lily's stomach jolts), who believe that the world works in black and white, where everything is either right or wrong, and believe that she and Severus are grey.

But that's all in the past now, Severus chose to walk his path, and Lily chose to walk hers. Her destiny lies ahead; she needs to move on, and James is the perfect person for that. It's not like Lily plans on marrying him or anything, she's had enough boyfriends during the years when being busy was the exception, not the rule, not know that relationships rarely last long term. The thought of meeting your soul mate at Hogwarts is preposterous.

Lily plays idly with the fluff dangling from her jeans, watching the shadows made by the moonlight on the rippling lake. Then again, she remembers, seven years ago, the thought of Hogwarts itself was preposterous. Back then, she had absolutely no idea what magic was beyond the card tricks Petunia loved. Now, she's flourishing in it.

Mary once asked her if she missed life as a Muggle, going to a normal school where girls discussed soap operas and netball, not Transfiguration and Quidditch. Once, she would have said she missed it, now, she's not so sure. She loves the wizarding world, now that her destiny is real, so vivid and intense and real, she can never go back. It would be like shutting the curtains on a glorious, sunny summer's day. She can't leave Remus, whom she's gotten to know so well, or Mary, or Alice, or anyone.

Being a Muggle could be interesting though; Lily can imagine her and Petunia, watching movies, and prom dates (James Potter seems to be her escort in this particular dream) and playing netball and the like. There would be none of this stupid heartbreak caused by Severus, either, because she wouldn't even know him. Life would be easy and normal … and boring.

Lily's twisting the thread from her jeans around her finger more furiously now, fidgeting and fiddling as always. She's so busy, she can't just sit still, it's as though her heart is going to stop ticking if she just sits there and breathes. She's so busy these days, that she would be the one who was organising cleanup groups at the end of a picnic while everyone else admired the scenery.

Her mother relates life to driving: you can't just speed along the highway, you have to hit the speed bumps and get impatient with other drivers and have the radio turned up so loud it's deafening and stop randomly on the side of the road just to admire the view. _"If you rush, you miss the little things and there's no point in living," _she says. Lily has no idea how this relates to her world, although Quidditch nuts like James could probably relate it to riding a broomstick, but she knows it's true.

She's been rushing life. And then it hits her. The little things, the heartbreak and pain Severus caused her, the ebbing anger with Petunia and the pounding feeling in her heart whenever James is around, it's all a part of the road trip that is life. Acting on instinct, responding to whims, being spontaneous and free, that's what life should be like. And, instead, she's stuck listening to first years preach about how to change a button into a needle.

Ignoring the fact that it's the middle of the night, she's wearing jeans and she should be doing homework, Lily runs, whooping and screaming, into the lake. Her clothes billow around her as she jumps and splashes. It's freezing cold, but Lily barely notices; for the first time in months she's just being joyous and she's free. Stuff it, she decides, emerging from under the surface and scraping her fiery, now saturated locks from her eyes, she wants to run off and become a healer and marry James and have lots of messy haired, green eyed kids and live in a cottage with a cat.

She submerges herself in the lake once more.

* * *

**a/n: Thanks for reading this story, and for all the support. This chapter is for Frayed Misfit, who really did give me some much needed inspiration which I found of utmost importance for this chapter. Please leave a review, and I'd love to know your favourite chapter - my favourite is definitely James, because I think I did the best job of getting into his head, and Sirius comes a close second.**


End file.
